It would have been safer.

She had a son to think of, no power, no protection, everything to lose and nothing obvious to gain, and she was going up against a wealthy woman who would soon control a fortune.

Every rational calculation pointed toward silence.

And Maria Collins had chosen, instead, to confront a murderer with the truth, knowing exactly what it might cost her, because some things are true and ought to be said even when saying them shatters the world.

That was the courage the whole story turned on, and it was the courage Daniel wanted the mosaic to commemorate — not his own eventual decency, which had come late and easily once the danger was clear, but the harder, earlier, lonelier bravery of the woman who spoke when speaking was most dangerous and least rewarded.

The mirror had shattered.

And out of its broken pieces, because one person had been brave enough to tell the truth, a family that had been scattered and grieving and lied-to for six years had been made, at last, into something whole, and something beautiful, and something true.